


Clipped Wings

by archangelwithashotgun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crying Gabriel, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Gabriel Monthly Challenge, Heavy Angst, Hurt Gabriel, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Mutilation, Post-Episode: s09e18 Meta Fiction, Powerlessness, Rescue, Sabriel - Freeform, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9442919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelwithashotgun/pseuds/archangelwithashotgun
Summary: Gabriel Monthly Challenge: January 2017Inspired by the statement prompt: When you least expect it sometimes you get saved.Post-Meta Fiction. Gabriel is rescued by Sam, Dean, and Castiel from the prison Metatron stuck him in. Only, Gabriel’s not so sure he wants to be saved anymore.





	

By now, Gabriel really should know better than to underestimate the determined will and irreparable hero-complex of the Winchesters and Castiel after all this time.

Despite not having seen Castiel for the millennia he had been gone from Heaven, Gabriel had always known that Castiel was a bright and observant angel. At the same time, however, he had not really expected for Castiel to actually follow through on whatever tiny suspicion had been planted in his mind that Gabriel was resurrected by Metatron’s hand.

His performance to get Castiel to lead the angels had been extremely limited; his grace was bound by whatever Metatron had cooked up to keep him on the tightest leash possible, and Gabriel was thoroughly informed of what would happen to him should he break character to warn Castiel of what was going on.

Continuity errors over a long con were always Gabriel’s weakness, though, and Castiel had caught on to the fact that the entire thing was a farce when his coat pocket – his _coat pocket_ , of all the damned things – was not shredded as it had been earlier. Gabriel continued the act as best as he could, trying to convince Castiel of the original intent of Metatron’s lesson.

But in the end, he was still the Trickster, and he couldn’t resist the ambiguous eyebrow waggle he had given Castiel after he had asked if Gabriel was dead.

That had been enough, apparently. Enough for Metatron to follow through on his threat in a discreet manner, tossing the novel _Tall Tales_ , where he had meticulously hidden Gabriel’s archangel grace within the pages, into the fireplace. The holy fire licked at the paper, turning them charred in a matter of moments, and consumed Gabriel’s grace.

Elsewhere, carefully hidden on Earth and far enough to fall deaf on Castiel’s ears, a prolonged and echoing shriek of agony ripped from Gabriel’s throat.

. . .

So, no. He had not expected to be rescued. In that moment, he wasn’t sure he even _wanted_ to be rescued anymore.

But when he least expected it, however, he got saved.

Gabriel’s head remained bowed and his eyes closed, hardly taking notice of the muted explosion that rocked throughout his cell. Everything was muffled, as if his mind was replaced by a thick cottonball, and he was blearily aware of shouting voices echoing in the void. Shadows flitted in and out of his vision, and suddenly he was being grabbed, hands cupping his face frantically.

It didn’t hurt – hell, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of feeling physical pain anymore, he was so numb – but a soft, startled cry escaped his lips nonetheless.

The hands went stiff against his skin, the grip instantly softened, and then Gabriel heard a whisper. Quiet, gentle, sorrowful, and the loudest and clearest chime Gabriel could hear.

“I’m so sorry.”

 Sam.

Gabriel sucked in a wet, quivering gasp and released a weak sob, opening his streaming eyes. Sam’s hazel-green eyes were locked onto his, faintly outlined in red and glimmering in the low light of the cell.

“Gabriel,” Sam murmured soothingly, his calloused thumb like sandpaper over Gabriel’s cheekbone. Gabriel leaned into the touch desperately, closing his eyes once more.

He never thought he’d see Sam again, not after what he did to ensure his survival back at Elysian Fields. He had made his peace with it, or so he had thought. All of those stolen kisses and late nights that they had shared before, they were _everything_ to Gabriel, especially once Metatron sunk his claws into him.

There was no calming the waves of relief and joy that crashed through Gabriel at the sight of Sam crouching before him, the familiar warmth of his hands cupping his face, and the breathtaking spark of love visible in his eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever see Sam again, and _he was here_.

And yet…

“You shouldn’t have come,” Gabriel croaked, swallowing past the fire in his throat from the lack of use. “You sho… Leave me. I’m no good for you.”

Sam’s hand tightened around his jaw and Gabriel blinked his eyes open once more, feeling his heart lurch at the passionate fire of anger flaring in Sam’s expression. Still, Gabriel persisted.

“Leave me here,” Gabriel hissed past gritted teeth.

Stiffly, tearfully, Sam shook his head. He leaned forward and press a firm kiss to Gabriel’s forehead, his eyes shut tight.

“There’s not a chance in Hell that I’m going to do that,” Sam growled against his skin.

Gabriel clenched his jaw and trembled. Sam sighed and ducked down to quickly kiss Gabriel’s temple before pulling away.

“We’re gonna get you out of here,” Sam whispered, carefully reaching over to wrap an arm around Gabriel’s torso. “C’mon.”

Gabriel stifled a whimper as Sam helped him into a standing position, his back, coated with sweat and grime, peeling from the concrete wall. A glimpse over Sam’s shoulder revealed Dean and Castiel, lightly coated in dust and rubble from the previous explosion at the front of his cell, and staring at the scene before them with wide eyes. Gabriel averted his gaze toward the floor.

As Gabriel struggled into an upright position, his legs quaking dangerously beneath him, he heard a startled gasp escape Sam.

“Gabriel,” Sam breathed, alongside a thick cry choking from Castiel and a hissed grunt from Dean.

Protruding from the archangel’s back, black and charred and completely dry of Grace, were the burnt remains of Gabriel’s wings. A once gloriously golden and shattering spectacle, reduced to hardened, trembling stumps of flaking ashes coating Gabriel’s back.

Gabriel closed his eyes in despair.

“Don’t… look…” Gabriel managed past the bruising lump that emerged in his throat. “ _Please_. Can we – can we just go? Please, Sam, I wanna _go_.”

Sam nodded, eyes flitting away from Gabriel’s destroyed wings and focusing on his face instead. Sam sniffed and smiled weakly as he tugged Gabriel closer, trailing his fingers softly down Gabriel’s cheek.

“Okay,” Sam said, his lower lip wobbling even as he fought to keep his smile. He carefully wiped away the stray tears that slid down Gabriel’s cheek, blinking his own back ferociously. “Let’s go, yeah?”

Swallowing back a harsh sob, Gabriel frantically nodded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Sam’s chest, the ghost of his wings trailing phantom feathers against his back.


End file.
